


always hold your head up high, cuz it's a long, long, long way down

by hellbeast



Series: always hold your head up high 'verse [1]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Barely Canon Compliant, Gen, Spreading Trauma Across The Multiverse, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7925719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellbeast/pseuds/hellbeast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Animorphs meet the Avengers.</p><p>[based on <a href="http://demenior.tumblr.com/post/125804515479/animorphsavengers-au-where-the-still-children">this tumblr post</a>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. always hold your head up high, cuz it's a long, long, long way down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > <There are some other people fighting the aliens,> Tobias reports. <And like, I hope I'm not hallucinating, but I'm pretty sure that one of them is Iron Man.>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finally got the escape characters to work, bless & thank

“Are those kids? Those are kids, whose kids are those?” Stark’s voice comes through the earpiece so startlingly clear that Steve turns, looking for the aforementioned kids. But the only things around him are more and more Chitauri, and the flaming wreckage they’ve brought in their wake.

“Anyone else got a visual on these kids?” Steve asks, punching up with the shield and taking brief satisfaction in the meaty _thwack_ of a Chitauri footsoldier stumbling from the force of it.

“I do,” says a voice that Steve doesn’t immediately recognize. Barton, then—or, Hawkeye, rather. “Four kids, look like preteens and—”

A pause.

“Barton?”

A longer pause. Steve can hear Barton inhale, and—

“Holy shit, what the fucking fuck—” Stark cuts in, sounding frantic and impressed all at once. “Legolas, you saw that. I don’t know what the fuck that is but you had to have seen it. _Tell me you saw that_.”

“Hey!” Steve snaps, and then when they quiet, he asks, “Saw _what_.”

“Four kids, some kinda... deer and a bird, I think,” Barton finally responds, in a faltering tone. Before Steve can even address that, he continues, “The kids just turned into animals.”

What.

“Excuse me?” Black Widow speaks up before Steve can voice his own disbelief.

“I _was_ looking at four kids, a bird and what I thought was a deer. I am _now_ looking at a tiger, an elephant, a gorilla, a bird and what I’m pretty sure are two aliens.”

By this point, Steve has made his way through a fair number of Chitauri and a handful of city blocks. And by now, he can see what Barton is talking about.

The first thing that catches his eye has to be an alien: it’s tall, near ten feet and the most dangerous thing Steve has ever seen. It looks vaguely reptilian and avian at the same time, with a beak and frills and scales, and every joint is framed by sharp, sweeping blades. Bladed elbows, bladed shoulders, bladed knees, bladed ankles.

It’s terrifying.

Steve doesn’t realize he’s stopped to stare in horror until the thing cocks its head at him.

<Don’t worry,> whispers a gentle, kind voice, _in his head_.  <We’re on your side.>

And then he watches it turn around and rip a Chitauri’s head clean off with a casual sweep of its arm.

* * *

Whatever they are—kids or animals, kids who can turn into animals, animals who can turn into kids, aliens or _whatever_ —they’re _**brutal**_.

An elephant trumpets out a war cry, lowering its massive head and shaking the street as it charges forward, goring Chitauri too slow to get out of the way and tossing them aside over its back. A gorilla bellows, punching Chitauri left and right. The elephant's tusks are stained with gore and chitin. The gorilla's fur is matted with small chunks of who knows what.

What few Chitauri make it past _those_ two are quickly taken out with the sudden strike of a tiger’s paw or the iron grip of a hawk's talons.

And then there are the aliens. The _other_ aliens.

One looks like the eldritch amalgamation of a centaur and a scorpion, except it’s _blue_ and that top half isn’t even remotely human. Either way, it charges with fleet hooves and an even faster tail, leaving fatal gashes behind. The other looks like the world’s most horrifying dinosaur—strangely avian, strangely reptilian, and wholly antediluvian—and effortlessly mows down Chitauri, looking every inch an ancient, destructive weapon.

The problem is, the surprise of their arrival only last for a moment. The Chitauri retaliate.

Laser fire from blasters, animals screams, explosions—everything gets real and loud and through the smoke and confusion, Tony can only take easy shots and watch:

The elephant takes a hit to the knee that bares muscle and bone and stumbles down into an awkward kneel and the Chitauri rush in and—

—the gorilla _howls_ , bleeding and its movements are obviously slowed, even as it sends another Chitauri staggering backwards with one swing of its fist—

—the tiger is surrounded, Tony can see the blood and ichor staining its teeth, not red but almost blue, there’s no way it can dodge those shots from such short range—

—a handful of Chitauri on those hover scooters are relentlessly pursuing the hawk, shots singing feathers and the bird starts to list and drop altitude—

—the scorpion-deer is trying to fight its way to the tiger’s side, tail flashing in a blur, chopping off hands and cutting throats, but the tiger is still a block away and—

—almost like it calls his name, his eyes fall and settle on the dinosaur. It’s being swarmed, mobbed, almost invisible under the mass of Chitauri, but he watches it twitch and its head snaps to the side, towards the other interlopers. His own repulsor fire is all he can hear, and even that is muffled by the helmet, but he swears he can hear a voice, discordant and multi-layered and unyielding and anguished:

< _ **Jake!**_ >

And in that same moment, he watches three Chitauri take their weird bladed guns and surge forward, _tearing_ the dinosaur clean in half.

* * *

* * *

It’s almost funny, Cassie thinks.

There wasn’t much time to gather their bearings—barely a blink, the way it always is with the Ellimist—but things like, oh say, alien invasions aren’t all that difficult to piece together.

But it’s funny, in a way. The Ellimist had thrown them into another world as a reward (and really, Cassie thinks, there needs to be an agreement on what that word _means_ ); a world where the Yeerks never invaded earth.

So then it’s funny, right, that they all happen to appear—between one blink and the next—smack dab in the middle of some other alien invasion.

<Right?>

<This is the exact opposite of funny, Cassie.> Marco replies first, sounding morose. She and Marco and Jake and Rachel are circled up, standing back to back. Ax is a little off to the side, with room enough to strike with his tail.

And Tobias—

<I'm pretty sure the word you're looking for is _ironic_. But _cruel_ would work, too, > is Tobias' wry answer, as he swoops down from above, powerful wings buffeting the air to ease his descent.

These aliens—the not-Yeerks—look like the standard kind of invaders, from some sci-fi novel. They're big and vaguely humanoid, ugly as sin and armed to the teeth. It's almost... disappointing. Though, if they had been thrown through time-space just to watch the Yeerks invade an alternate Earth, Cassie probably would've screamed and maybe never stopped.

As it is, she still feels a little like screaming, or maybe shaking the Ellimist: how, exactly, is dealing with another alien invasion supposed to be _rewarding_?

<Okay,> Jake says. It's all he says at first, but Cassie reins in her wandering thoughts, and she can feel Marco shift behind her. <Ideas, anyone?>

<Take down these nobodies, find the Ellimist and have a little talk.> Rachel answers immediately. Cassie doesn't have to look to know that Rachel's frustrated, maybe a little scared, and more than ready to handle her fears the bloody way.

<It's all very Xena, but considering what these guys are doing to what I think is downtown New York, I can't say I'm not down for it,> Marco admits. Cassie can already hear him starting to morph; the strange sound of bulging, warping organic matter.

<I am ‘down’ too, Prince Jake.> Ax says.

Jake turns his head a little, just enough to catch Cassie's eye. He squeezes her hand—which, wow, she hadn't even realized they were holding hands, and now she kinda wants the Earth to just open up and swallow her, _jeez_ —and grins.

Cassie watches, as that grin gets bigger and bigger, his teeth bulging and his skin starting to ripple with stripes.

<Let's save the world, then. Again.>

* * *

Cassie morphs Hork-Bajir.

It's a sensible choice, really. They're not only intimidating, but they're also extremely difficult to take down. Taxxons are dangerous, but soft-skinned. Hork-Bajir, for all their peaceful ways, are good to have in a fight.

They all morph—or well, most of them morph—and by the time it's all said and done, the aliens have separated them, drawn them away from each other, and Cassie can only just spot the blue of Ax's fur nearly a block away.

The aliens—she wonders if they have a name—are big, but not Hork-Bajir big. And they're strong, but they're not Hork-Bajir strong. And she doesn't know if they're smart, but she'd feel safe saying she's probably smarter.

It's no contest.

<Hey, uh, guys,> Tobias' thought-voice is faint, which means he's hovering somewhere far above ground, probably gliding on an amazing updraft near the tops of the skyscrapers. <There are... Man, I can't believe how weird this is.>

<Tobias?> Rachel's frustration almost covers up her worry. Cassie can't quite manage a smile with a Hork-Bajir mouth, but she makes a valiant effort.

<There are some other people fighting the aliens,> Tobias reports. <And like, I hope I'm not hallucinating, but I'm pretty sure that one of them is Iron Man.>

Before Cassie can even think about that, there's the sound of footsteps behind her.

She turns and—

<I am looking at Captain America.> Her mind is a total blank; she sends the thought out to the others on little more than reflex.

Jake and Marco make identical choked noises of surprise.

Captain America—assuming this is real, and not some... bizarro side-effect of fighting aliens—looks, frankly, terrified.

<Don't worry,> Cassie tells him, ignoring how he tenses at the sound of her thought-voice, <We're on your side.>

But then the aliens have regrouped, and she pivots on one heel to bring the blade of her arm down, watching grimly as they fall apart.

It's still no contest.

Cassie can't afford to gawk and the man who may or may not be Captain America, but she can hear him moving, staying between her 6 and 7, beneath the chorus of pained alien noises as they more or less move forward.

<Uh oh.> Marco says, suddenly. <These guys aren't playing arou— _ **OUCH**_! >

<Marco?> Ax asks, voice pitched high with concern. And then: <Prince Jake?>

Rachel screams.

<What's happening?> Cassie braces against a shot from one alien's... phaser? It stings, but only a little, and the alien's within easy reach of her arm. She opens its throat In a bright, wet slash.

<They're mobbing!> Marco's voice is tense with pain. <Rachel, I'll cover you—morph out!>

<Prince Jake?> Ax asks again, louder this time.

Cassie swivels the Hork-Bajir neck, stretching it out as far as she can. She can see Ax now, and she can hear Rachel's trumpeting. But she can't see Jake. She can't hear him.

<Jake, you okay?> comes Tobias’ faint call. Cassie looks up, but there are too many small, moving figures for her to find him.

<... Jake?> Cassie whispers, for Jake's ears alone.

<Crap.> Jake finally, finally speaks, but his voice is quick and breathless, despite being mental.

<They're really mobbing,> Rachel sounds too worried to bother hiding it. <Jake, I can't even _see_ you. >

Jake makes a noise.

It takes Cassie a moment to place it.

It's funny (no, it's not). She's heard the sound so many times, from some many mouths or maw or gaping throats. Normally, she'd be able to identify that sound half-asleep.

It's Jake, choking on his own blood.

She can't see Tobias. She can't see Rachel or Marco. She can barely keep track of Ax. But she knows. They all feel it. She can imagine, all their heads—furry and scaled and feathered alike—suddenly snapping in the same direction, attention unerringly fixed on their unseen leader.

Cassie screams. It's echoed, multiplied by five. They scream, and they don’t care who hears:

< _ **Jake!**_ >

It's stupid of her, to lose focus. Like they haven't been doing this for _years_.

But, well. It’s Jake. It’s _Jake_.

Her neck is stretched desperately toward where she can all but _feel_ Jake dying, slowly, breath by breath. Sharp points are pressed against her abdomen; they suddenly _**yank**_ and—

* * *

Marco still has gorilla fur bristling back into his skin when he sees Cassie go down.

Shit. _Shit_.

And yup, that is definitely Captain America, Hork-Bajir blood splatter on his face and eyes wide with shock, horror and a couple other things.

"Rachel, Cassie!" He calls, voice hoarse, and he can hardly find the words. But Rachel understands.

<Grab on!> Rachel snaps, pulling her lips back and showing the aliens in their way a mouth full of sharp, curved fangs.

He grabs a handful of coarse bear fur and then they're moving, Rachel bellowing in the faces of aliens too slow to move out of her way right before she swats them with massive paws.

Captain America is barking something over his earpiece—probably something like "weird friendly alien down, send a medic and/or vet"—and kneeling at Cassie's side when Rachel barrels over, straight _through_ a small crowd of the Yeerk-wannabes.

Cassie's in two full pieces, Hork-Bajir eyes wide. Another one of the aliens howls and stabs its spear-gun into her chest. It looks triumphant for all of two seconds before Captain America _slams_ his shield right through its head. He drops to one knee and his hands hover nervously over Cassie's bloodied, heaving chest.

"Protect her head!" Marco yells, letting go of Rachel to scramble towards Cassie and waving a frantic dismissive arm at a National Icon when the man doesn't react. She doesn't need his _help_ , she needs them to _**cover her**_.

"Cassie, we got it, c'mon," His voice is going to be scraped raw and broken by the time the day is through. The Hork-Bajir head gives a jerky nod, and almost instantly it's green skin starts to brown.

Captain America looks ten kinds of bewildered and stubborn, and he's not moving. Why isn't he moving.

"Come _**on**_ , Cap!" Marco snarls, mouth already elongating into a wolf snout, his hearing hollowing and warping at his ears shift.

"But the—" Captain America starts, still not moving, but instead helplessly gesturing at the two halves of Cassie.

<She's fine, but we won't be if you just keep _standing_ there! > Marco snaps, taking off into a run before the wolf morph is even complete. The back legs are still too long, and his arms are just clawed and hairy. He probably looks like classic Wolf Man right now. It’d be cool, if he wasn’t, you know, fighting for his life and humanity against alien invaders. _**Again**_.

And was Cap even paying attention? The lower half of the Hork-Bajir has stopped moving but the upper half has grown bulkier and sprouted human arms and legs and is standing upright. It's Cassie's body; only the Hork-Bajir head remains.

<Man, that is still the coolest, creepiest thing.> Marco tells her admiringly, mid leap for another alien's throat.

<Thanks for covering me, Marco.> Cassie's voice is as hurried as her morph back into Hork-Bajir is effortless. <But what about Jake?>

<I have assisted Prince Jake.> Ax reassures her. They're all close enough now that Marco can see them both, Ax's tail a blur and Jake huddled up close to his flank, mostly human but already morphing again. Rachel is close by too, bellowing and chomping entire aliens in half like its nothing.

<Everybody good?> Jake asks. His voice is a little shaky, but that hardly stops the sudden rush of overwhelming _relief_ that Marco feels at the sound of it.

<Good to hear your voice, man.> Marco tells him honestly.<Me, Cassie and Captain freakin' America are all good.>

The ground shakes.

<The Hulk's here, too.> Tobias sounds like he's either two seconds away from calling it quits or two seconds from nerding out. <The Hulk just punched this... giant sky whale? Today is... really, really weird, you guys.>

Marco can hear bellowing and crashing from up ahead. It sounds like a Hulk. It sounds like a Hulk _winning_.

The buzz of Cap’s earpiece—crystal clear to Marco’s more sensitive ears—confirms it: “Banner sure does know how to make an entrance,” Someone whistles their appreciation.

“No kidding,” Cap says, and— _finally_ —he’s moving, covering Cassie’s six.

Marco is only a little jealous, but he understands; the guy did see her get ripped in half, and is probably convinced that the ten foot bladed death lizard needs more backup than the snappy, lovable wolfboy.

Whatever.

<Marco, I can feel you sulking all the way from over here,> Rachel teases.

<It’s cool,> Marco tosses his head dismissively. It’s totally cool.

<Marco, that is the least convincing thing I have _ever_ heard you say. > Tobias sends the thought while he’s already mid-dive; by the time Marco has even processed it, he can feel talons ruffling the fur on his back, right before three pounds of red-tailed hawk touch down, wings akimbo and talons shifting with Marco’s stride.

<What am I, a cabby?> Marco huffs, but he doesn’t stop running. He can smell Tobias’ charred feathers; he was probably _that_ close to getting shot right out of the sky.

<I’m sure he’ll sign your trading cards if you asked,> Tobias continues without pause, and with far more smugness than a bird should be allowed.

<I don’t _have_ trading cards! > Marco grumbles.

<Suuure, Marco.> Rachel drawls.

His friends are The Worst.

<You know,> he says, annoyed, <I don’t remember today being ‘Give Marco a Hard Time’ day. I’m pretty sure it’s actually ‘Kick Some Alien Ass’ day, guys.>

<Yeah guys,> Jake cuts in. Marco mentally cheers; finally, the voice of _reason_. But then Jake says,  <Marco’s collection is actually really impressive, you shouldn’t knock it.>

< _ **Traitor**_ ,> Marco hisses.

Jake _laughs_ , the jerk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i blame the fact that i've been rereading animorphs. the idea here is that everything is still terrible but not like, _canon_ levels of terrible.
> 
> i'm considering a part two, which would mostly consist of various characters in the MCU going 'what the fuck, what the fucking fuck' while the animorphs lowkey freak out because _superheroes_


	2. these changes ain't changin' me, the gold-hearted boy i used to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay,” The Iron Man says. “Can someone please start explaining where these kids came from? Are they aliens? Did we get invaded twice?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in keeping with the Theme™, another chapter with some more lyrics from the killers.

Rachel knows the very moment that the battle ends. She’s still morphed Grizzly Bear—which she _should’ve_ morphed from the start, instead of stupidly falling back on an elephant, and she can still feel the phantom pain of having her kneecaps disintegrated by one of those damn blasters—and she’s pissed. The battle has dragged on for what feels like ages, and her head is pounding, but she keeps fighting. She wouldn’t be an Animorph if she didn’t fight.

The weird not-Yeerks are a pain in the ass. She’s glad they’re not body-hopping slugs, but they’re big and they have weapons, and she’s already had to drop out of a morph twice to avoid bleeding out.

Rachel’s _angry_ and, and tired and—

She grabs the nearest bozo—though, with her claws, it’s a lot more like stabbing—and bellows in its face before clamping her jaw down and _tearing_.

She’s frustrated, and really, is it any wonder? They got split up _again_. Right after at least one of them almost died, _again_. Just because they’re well-versed in kicking alien ass doesn’t mean that the sound of Jake choking on his own blood didn’t chill her to her bones. There had hardly been time to regroup, to reassure themselves before they were thrown right back into the thick of it. She can take a little comfort in the knowledge that Tobias is with Marco and Cassie, and that Ax is with Jake. It’s not really a big deal, and she can take care of herself. Marco still calls her Xena with something that is both fond and a little questioning, but Rachel is _good_ at fighting, whether against Yeerks or Taxxons or anything else. She snarls out her frustrations as she slams her bulk into another one of the alien invaders, and it feels good.

It’s easy to lose herself, here, in the unthinking violence of “see an enemy, make it bleed”, a dance with no such thing as missteps, only simple actions and reactions. So when something lands, heavy on the ground behind her, Rachel is already swinging one huge paw in that direction before she even registers what it is. Her paw bounces back without doing any damage.

It’s the Hulk.

Look, Rachel might not loiter outside the comic shop for new single issues or anything, but she’s Jake’s cousin, and she’s Cassie’s best friend. She knows her superheroes, okay?

And the huge, green guy growling at her? Definitely the Hulk.

Rachel doesn’t think—the battle has been dragging on for far longer than any of their usual fights against the Yeerks and she’s too tired to think beyond ‘if you don’t know what it is, kill it’. So she just… bellows back.

She can’t say who’s more surprised; her or the Hulk.

They stare at each other in awkward silence. One of the not-Yeerks tries to rush the Hulk, but he just swings one massive arm out and sends it flying. The rest keep their distance after that.

“Little bear fighting aliens.” The Hulk says, a moment later. The timbre of his voice feels like it should be shaking the ground. Maybe it is shaking the ground. Or maybe Rachel’s the one that’s shaking.

Rachel nods dumbly.

“Good bear,” the Hulk says, and then he… pats her on the head. Like a dog or a small child. What.

Rachel is so stunned that when the Hulk turns and then bounds off, leaving behind a crater, she doesn’t move.

Not until she watches one of those hovercraft speeder things come careening around a blind corner, driver slumped still over the handlebars. Hulk, already mid-air and back to the craft, stands no chance. It plows into the back of his head and explodes and the Hulk is—

Plummeting back down to the ground, shrinking.

Rachel is there, bellowing and clawing and snarling and biting, before Bruce Banner can so much as even raise a hand to his no doubt aching head.

She _knows_ her superheroes, _got it_?

But there’s no need. Because by the time Banner sits up, all the aliens have dropped like dominoes.

* * *

<I do not like these adult humans, Prince Jake,> Ax says. He keeps his stalk eyes trained on the one that Tobias called ‘Iron Man’, and his main eyes on the far more dangerous female adult human trying to talk to Prince Jake.

“How about you tell your friend here to stand down?” The woman asks, with a small smile and a tilt of her head. Ax does not like her, or the Iron Man, or the Captain of America (Although the last is admittedly impressive, that a single man would be made the acting Captain of the entire American fleet).

“Ax,” Prince Jake starts, but Ax will not have it. He remains firm, standing between Prince Jake and the other, strange, unknown humans, tail raised high in threat.

<No, Prince Jake.> It is not an aristh’s place to question their Prince, but nothing about Prince Jake is conventional, and Ax does not trust this world that the Ellimist has sent them to, nor the humans within it.

If they even _are_ humans.

It says something—perhaps about them, perhaps about the Ellimist—that Ax honestly can’t tell.

<What’s going on?> Tobias asks, from the makeshift perch on Marco’s forearm. Marco’s clothes are caked with dirt and tacky with dried alien blood, and his hair is a wild tangle, but he’s looks happy enough, grinning widely every time he glances at the Captain of America. 

<It’s like somebody pulled the plug,> Cassie agrees. She’s still morphed into a Hork-Bajir, even as she follows the Captain of America—the American Captain?—towards the rest of the other strange, new humans. That, more than anything, assures Ax that he is making the right choice. If Cassie, who is the kindest of them, still feels the need to be battle-ready—and the need to communicate covertly, through thought-speak—then Ax will remain diligently wary of these interlopers.

“Okay,” The Iron Man says, his flushed human face making a strange juxtaposition with the gleaming red and gold metal around it. Ax is still uncertain of how this particular human works; does the metal armor function like the life support system of Darth Vader from the chronicle of the Star Wars that Marco showed him? Or is he perhaps a knight, like those from the Rounded Table? “Can someone please start explaining where these kids came from? Are they aliens? Did we get invaded twice?”

None of them say a word, not even Marco, who’s still grinning, albeit more aggressively than happily. Tobias pointedly ruffles and resettles his feathers.

<Where’s Rachel?> He asks, twisting his head at the strangers.

<Here!> Comes Rachel’s faint voice. <We’ll be there in a sec.>

<I do not like these humans.> Ax voices the thought again, because he cannot shake that feeling of malaise, an encroaching and unrelenting sense of doubt that tells him that although the common enemy has fallen, the battle is far from over.

<It’s okay, Ax,> Cassie tells him. Her thought-speak voice is serene, and Ax twists a stalk eye towards her. She looks calm, but she still hasn’t made any move to demorph. <We’ll be fine.>

“Guys, you’re being ridiculous.” Jake mutters under his breath, turning his head away from the red-haired woman—who has still maintained a smile that shines with its own fixed plasticity—and the purple human with the projectile weapon. Ax watches them both, and does not falter.

“Son,” The Captain America starts to say, but then he glances falteringly from Cassie to Tobias to Ax, before he continues. “Kids. What are you doing here? The area should be cordoned off.”

“Oh, you know,” Marco says affably. He shrugs and Tobias flares out his wings as he bobs with the movement, looking annoyed. “We were in the neighborhood, thought we’d help out.”

“Where’s Banner?” Ax hears the man in purple whisper, bringing one surreptitious hand to his ear. A communicator, then. There is a garbled reply.

<Wow, talk about a standoff.> Rachel drawls, as she comes into view. She is still morphed Grizzly Bear, and there is another strange human draped across her back. He is unmoving.

“Never mind.” The man in purple mumbles. Then he says, louder. “What happened to him?”

Rachel cocks her large, furred head in the man’s direction, and Ax does not fail to notice how all of the humans tense, hands falling to weapons or into fists.

No, Ax does not trust these humans, not at all.

<Hostile, much?> Rachel grumbles. She shifts her weight, gently, until the man slides from her back and onto the ground. The man is not unconscious like Ax had originally thought, because he slumps to his knees, one hand held to his head and the other on the ground, barely assisting in keeping him upright. Rachel quickly demorphs, and cocks her hip out to the side.

Ax is still so amazed at his human friends, sometimes. Marco can be relied upon to make jokes, because the levity calms other humans, and it makes them underestimate him. And Ax has never met a human so talented at scorn as Rachel.

“Hostile, much?” She repeats, one hand on her hip as she flips her hair back.

“Kids,” The Captain of America has his hands before him, the way Cassie at times approaches horses. “This is serious. Where did you—”

“Where are your _parents_?” The dazed human mumbles from behind Rachel.

“What.” Rachel says.

“What?” Jake says.

<Um,> Cassie says.

“ _Seriously?_ ” Marco groans.

<What do parental units have to do with this situation?> Ax asks Tobias.

<Oh man,> Tobias replies.

“You can’t be more than fifteen,” The man continues, though he doesn’t look up at any of them. He still has one hand clapped over his face. “Where are your parents. Or whoever’s responsible for you.”

“ _We’re_ responsible for us, you big, green—” Rachel snaps, holding one fist out threateningly.

“ _Rachel_.” Jake snaps. She glares, but subsides.

“Now that’s interesting,” The red woman murmurs. Ax turns his head towards her—more for emphasis than anything, since he had been watching her with his stalk eyes—and her face tightens.

Ax has never taken joy in causing fear—not like the Visser, not like the other Andalites who see all other species as lesser—but knowing that these strangers are wary of him… he hopes it’s enough to deter them from doing anything unwise.

“Jeez, you can’t even stop an alien invasion these days without being carded.” Marco sighs dramatically.

Tobias abandons Marco’s ever-moving limbs and perches on one of Cassie’s shoulder spikes instead. He says, for their ears only: <I guess now that the fight’s over…>

He doesn’t finish his thought, but Ax has come to understand his friends well enough that he gets the general idea.

_Now what?_

* * *

Nick sighs and presses the tips of his fingers a little more firmly into his forehead.

Standing in front of his desk, in various degrees of excitement and anxiety, are teenagers. Or, three _human_ teenagers, a bird and two terrifying specimens of extraterrestrial origin. Also presumably teenaged.

The day started off with an alien invasion, instigated by a figure from Norse mythology, so Nick honestly should've expected something like this. The Avengers are all in a tizzy, wary and concerned, because these are teenagers. Teenagers who turned the tide of an alien invasion. Teenagers who are clearly not new at the whole 'defending the earth' thing. Kids, really.

Question them, send them home, train them. He's heard it all, from every mouth still able to talk aboard the helicarrier. No one can agree on what to _do_ with these kids, and no one knows where they came from or why they’re just now popping out of the woodwork. Though, if Nick had to guess, he supposes that an actual, honest to God _alien invasion_ —albeit a relatively localized one—would be impetus enough to draw in any number of fools who think themselves heroes.

That’s not the vibe that Nick is getting from these six, though. They’re too organized, too calm, too damn _good_ at taking out hostile forces to be small-time or glory hounds. That they’re unknown variables makes his skin itch, his eye throb, makes him wonder how they could’ve possibly flown under the radar until now. Well, there’s not much use in guessing, so he might as well just ask.

The in-house psychic just sent in their report; the standard surface scan didn’t pick up much, and the kids have some kind of short-range shielding and telepathy that lets them communicate when they… morph. That’s what they call it, the note says: Morphing. They call themselves Animorphs.

Marco, Jake, Cassie, Rachel, Tobias and Ax.

The Animorphs.

Nick has to admit that it’s a little catchy.

Marco is grinning wide and obnoxious, his long hair just as dirt-caked as the rest of him. Jake looks tired, pale and drawn, but stands tall. Rachel—a bear, at some point? According to the Avengers at any rate—looks fairly judgmental. Tobias... is a bird. Which is easier to handle than Cassie and Ax. He's not sure who is who, there, but one is blue furred and has a wicked looking bladed tail arched over their back and the other one looks like the lost link between birds and dinosaurs, a seven foot mass of spiked joints and bright frills and teeth.

“Okay.” Nick says slowly, without raising his voice, and there's a small sense of gratification when he garners the attention of all six easily; they seem a far more cohesive unit than the Avengers, which is by turn amusing and exhausting if he thinks on it for too long. “I’m going to keep the questions simple.”

In the back of the room, by the door, Barton grunts. Nick rolls his eye.

The Avengers are sitting in at their own insistence. Romanov and Barton want answers, but Stark and Banner are here because they probably don't trust him to question children, or for some other similarly asinine reason. Rogers looks earnestly confused, but he stands with the others all the same. It’s the most unified they’ve been since the initiative launched. The sight of it should be gratifying, but Nick knows exactly how many agents he lost today while an assembled team of adults squabbled like…

Well, not _quite_ like children, given the current company, but the point remains.

Nick doesn’t care about Barton right now, nor about whatever issue Stark and Banner think they have with him at the moment. Nick just had a bunch of teenagers upstage his so-called “World’s Greatest” with an almost insulting ease. Three kids, two aliens and a bird just turned the tide on an alien invasion, putting Loki out on his ass, and Nick is so impressed that it almost makes up for the fact that they made SHIELD, and the Avengers by proxy, look like a bunch of untrained morons in the process.

“How long have you been fighting aliens?” He asks. Jake looks up, surprised, and Rachel stops examining her nails with an air of disinterest. “And why you?”

Jake and Rachel exchange dark looks, and Tobias makes an aborted noise of what might be anger. 

But Nick’s attention is most grabbed when the alien—the towering, spiked one—steps forward. At the back of the room, Barton tenses and Rogers is on his feet, but Nick doesn’t move. And the alien shrinks. Shrinks and shrinks and shrinks, dark greens and blacks and bone-white spikes melting away and then it’s just a girl.

A little Black girl, skin as brown as his own, though hers is a touch pallid with strain and fatigue. Her hair is kept in a neat fade, and she’s shorter than nearly all her friends. She’s wearing the same spandex athletic gear as the others, under armor and compression shorts. Romanov had said that Jake was the leader, the one who called Rachel to heel and the one the other five looked to when things got hairy. The ones the others all screamed for, when he was injured. But this little girl steps forward—shoulders set and head held high—and the others step to the side, covering her blind spots, so smooth that it has to be unthinking.

“Okay.” She—Cassie, maybe—says, with a little huff. Jake has her by the elbow, half-holding her upright, but she hardly seems to notice. She’s staring right at Nick, and he can still see the gleam of those alien eyes, slit avian pupils gleaming under the artificial light. “We’ll talk. But only to _you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up, ~~interrogations~~ questions!


End file.
